


substitute

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [31]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: But it’s not concern Osamu feels. Shinsuke understands now. It’s knowledge, and that is worse.Kita on the bench with a substitution card.





	substitute

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 5: Clue | [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15295976#cmt15295976)

One of the twins has to leave the game.

It’s a sense Shinsuke’s honed to a razor edge, over the past year. He doesn’t need to check with the coach, though he casts a quick glance over out of courtesy, watches for the nod before he leans forward and narrows his eyes, jacket rustling round his shoulders.

He reaches for the paddles at the side of the bench. _7\. 11._ At his back, he can feel Suna’s curious gaze boring into him, waiting to see which one he’ll hold up.

Shinsuke bides his time, watches the flow of the match. Atsumu’s tired. That much is clear, from the way he takes two steps to catch up instead of one, his measured pace a split second off. Atsumu in his element makes you feel like the court’s his playground and even the sun couldn’t catch him.

Shinsuke doubts anyone else has noticed, except—

Osamu’s gaze keeps flickering over at Atsumu, and that’s reason enough to take him out.

At first, Shinsuke had thought he was _concerned_ , figured it was as straightforward as that. They are brothers first, after all, and teammates second, and Shinsuke has never cared to probe too deep into what the twins share. It’s enough that they bring it when they play and turn it to all their advantages. Their silence, their noise and their harmony; the cryptic way they say each other’s names, like rain in Osamu’s mouth, butter and caramel in Atsumu’s.

But it’s not concern Osamu feels. Shinsuke understands now. It’s knowledge, and that is worse.

 _Don’t let them cheer for Atsumu._ It had been Osamu who told him that, when they first started. Shinsuke, holding his tongue and his questions, had listened; Atsumu had never made the request himself. Sometimes, Shinsuke wonders what might have happened if Osamu had not approached him. Perhaps Atsumu had known he would.

Osamu does not worry for Atsumu, for Osamu already knows. He has no need for uncertainty. He has seen, has told Shinsuke with a startling crystal clarity, all the signs of Atsumu’s fatigue and his fortitude wearing down.

The thing that Osamu does not know is that he still reaches for Atsumu’s hand when they’re leaving the gym, that he habitually buys two drinks instead of one from the vending machine, always, even on days Atsumu’s not around. He carries these little pieces of Atsumu with him like shadow-selves they made of each other in their childhood.

They are no longer children. Shinsuke keeps a careful eye on Atsumu, who’s panting lightly, but still steady on his feet. Thinks: he can make it till the end of the set.

Osamu—

_some things you can’t unlearn just like that._

Signalling to the referee, Shinsuke puts the _7_ paddle back down on the bench, and stands up.


End file.
